


The Siren and The Blacksmith

by theauthorish



Series: Haikyuu Tales [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Sirens, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:33:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21962155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theauthorish/pseuds/theauthorish
Summary: There was a man walking along the shore, just then. Even from afar, Keiji could see the tired slump to his body and the weary heaviness of his steps.Keiji opened his mouth and began to sing.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Series: Haikyuu Tales [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1581058
Comments: 54
Kudos: 253





	The Siren and The Blacksmith

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so excited to share this with you all! I haven't written much in recent months, but this was a piece from the Haikyuu Tales zine I helped mod last September, and I'm super proud of it. I hope you guys enjoy it! There's much more coming, so keep your eyes out for that!

Of all the love stories I know, there is one among them that draws me in, over and over again, no matter how many times before I’ve read it.

It tells of a siren, who rose above the waves to find a mortal to drown-- a creature he considered lesser, weaker…

And how instead, he learned to love the man he’d chosen, and was loved in return.

/////

Deep beneath the waves, there lived a clan of sirens, beautiful beyond compare. It was only natural that they were, of course-- they were born to tempt and beguile, and what better way to do that than to catch the eyes and keep them there, watching… wanting.

Now, do not misunderstand. The poets and bards of old have told you that the sirens were evil, surely. Devious and malicious, hateful towards the men who tried to rule the seas they called their home.

This is far from true.

The reality is simply this: to a siren, a human is no more to them than a particularly interesting beetle is to you and me. They like watching us go about our inane business, find it curious watching us struggle over little things like water in our lungs… they don't understand how our lives can be so short, nor how we can be so stupid and easily frightened. So really, it isn't about anger or any vendetta.

It's indifference. Thoughtlessness.

You are starting to feel impatient now, aren't you? I promised you a great and sweeping romance, but here I am discussing the sirens’ outlook on life. It was, however, important for you to know it. Otherwise, you could never fully understand what a great feat it had been for Akaashi Keiji to overcome the ideas of his kind, to find it in his heart to see a human as an equal-- and to give his heart to him besides.

Akaashi Keiji, as you may have guessed, was our siren. Even among his people, he was known for his great beauty. His eyes, such a deep and unfathomable shade of blue, were naturally half-lidded with long, thick lashes the color of a moonless night. His hair fell in soft waves against his forehead, black as the abyss-- so black, in fact, that it seemed to absorb any light that should have been reflected in it. He was tall, corded with muscle like spider silk, with graceful hands and a lithe, fluid way of moving that made it seem almost as if he were constantly dancing.

And his voice… his voice was soft, sweet-- like the lap of the waves against the shore; it was calming, enrapturing, even when he wasn't using his magic.

Now, come close and listen well, as I tell you how this story truly began.

/////

Keiji, unlike his siblings, didn't find much entertainment in watching a mortal drown. He didn't see the other species as anything particularly captivating, and he had tried to tell them this often enough.

Still, his kin were relentless. He was only saying that because he hadn't watched one in so long, they said. He should try one more time; it had been decades after all! Finally, he agreed, if only to quiet them, on the condition that should he find it as dull as he knew he would, they were to permanently stop pestering him about it.

This was how he found himself swimming up to the surface, calling on his power to change his tail to legs, to wrap himself in a kimono made of the foam of the waves and the salt of the sea.

There was a man walking along the shore, just then. Even from afar, Keiji could see the tired slump to his body and the weary heaviness of his steps.

Keiji opened his mouth and began to sing.

The man’s head twisted around, searching for the source, and when his eyes found Keiji’s, Keiji smiled at him-- soft and gentle and alluring. He kept singing.

This wouldn't take long, Keiji knew. He just had to sing until the man came in reach, and then he could speak, lace his words with enchantment so that the man got so caught up in what he was saying that he didn't feel the waves crashing around him as Keiji led him deeper into the surf. And when the water crashed overhead, Keiji had only to hold him until he fell still, and the deed would be done.

The man came closer, and soon Keiji could make out his features, even in the dim moonlight. His hair was the first thing to capture Keiji’s attention; it was white, streaked with black and gray, but he didn't look very old at all-- a hereditary defect, perhaps?

He was just an inch taller than Keiji was, too, which was saying something, considering that Keiji was fairly tall himself. He was thick with muscle, especially around his shoulders and arms, and even marred by scars and burns as they were, Keiji couldn't help but appreciate them.

And his eyes-- his eyes were gold, like so many of the treasures Keiji and his siblings played with down on the ocean’s floor. They glinted in the light like tiny stars, and Keiji couldn't help but wonder (briefly, foolishly) if maybe this man was a siren himself.

“Hey, hey, hey,” said the human, as he neared, staring at Keiji in slack-eyed awe. As he should, Keiji thought. Keiji knew what he looked like, what he was made to be. The very fibers of his being were woven with temptation, so that even without trying, he could lure a mortal man to his doom.

Keiji found it a very sad thing, to have been given life to take that of others away-- even that of such trivial creatures as humans.

“Hello,” Keiji greeted, blinking slowly.

“You sing really well,” breathed the man.

“Thank you.” Keiji reached out, and the man let him take his hands, clasp them loosely in his own. “But you interrupted my song… Would you let me finish?”

The man blinked, dazed by the touch, by the spell Keiji was pressing into his skin. “I… Of course. My apologies.”

Keiji smiled at him in gratitude, and he began again. The man’s eyes glazed over as Keiji’s voice washed over him, the golden color fading into a duller sort of amber (a shame, Keiji thought). And slowly, as he sang, Keiji drew him backwards, deeper into the swirling water.

“What is your name?” he asked, as his song came to an end-- it wasn't a very long one; the songs were never long. There was no need for them to be.

“Bokuto… Koutarou…” came the answer, dragged from his too-slow mind by Keiji’s will alone. 

“Koutarou,” Keiji murmured, and it seemed to fit, somehow. At the sound of his name, the mortal drew closer to Keiji-- a magnet to his north. Ah, he really was handsome… what a shame that Keiji had to drown him. “Koutarou,” he said again, sweetly.

“Yes?”

“Will you come with me?”

“Yes.”

They were up to their chests in water now, the ocean calling Keiji home-- deeper, deeper, to where the moon could not reach; to where his sisters and brothers waited for him to bring them a new toy.

Keiji would have to sing again, he knew, as he tugged Bokuto Koutarou onward. The wave could shock him awake if Keiji didn't have him fully under his enchantment, and that simply wouldn't do.

So he did. He opened his mouth, crooned soft lullabies about the waves and the shore and ships in the night, and when the first wave crashed over their heads--

Bokuto Koutarou woke up.

/////

Now, reader, let me tell you about Bokuto Koutarou. He was a blacksmith from a village by the coast, strong, powerful, and masterful at his craft. People of all kinds came from near and far came to purchase his wares, and he did very well for himself this way.

Not all of them knew his name-- he was only the latest in a long line of blacksmiths, though he was certainly one of the more talented ones, and most came to him knowing only his family reputation, and nothing of his personal skill.

Their metalwork was said to be almost beyond compare, forged to last many generations and beautiful besides-- but that was not all. The Bokuto clan was well-versed in the ways of magic, and it was this that set them far apart from other blacksmiths, for they wove and pressed and hammered spells into the metal as they worked it. Like this, they created many wondrous things.

One of the things they had made was an amulet. It was small, plain. Nothing but a heavy medal with the family’s seal on it. But it was layered many times over with protection spells, cast by each new smith as a rite of passage before he took over the forge--

And it was this amulet that saved Bokuto Koutarou’s life.

/////

So let us return to the sea, to where Akaashi Keiji held Bokuto Koutarou by the hands, to where Bokuto had just shaken free of Keiji’s rapture.

The human jerked backward, found his footing on the ocean floor, and kept moving until his head was well above the water and he could breathe again. He spluttered, coughed up what little he had swallowed, and then turned to look for the man he now knew to be a siren.

But Keiji was gone.

Keiji had fled as soon as he realized the mortal had regained his senses-- something that should have been impossible without aid. How?

He was reluctant to admit it, but he was intrigued. His siblings would probably never let him live it down; He--  _ the  _ Akaashi Keiji-- failing to capture a foolish mortal? Hilarious.

He wasn't entirely sure he cared about that, really. Right now, all he wanted to do was figure out what had enabled that man, Bokuto Koutarou, to escape from Keiji’s clutches… 

After all, there was nothing Keiji found more appealing than a challenge.

/////

Keiji went back the next night. He knew the chances of Bokuto returning were low, especially after their encounter-- what dunce would knowingly come to his death a second time?-- but either way, Keiji had yet to capture a mortal to fulfill his end of the bargain with his siblings.

He surfaced to find Bokuto waiting for him.

“You’re a siren,” Bokuto said, the slight tilt of his head the only indication that this was a question.

Keiji squinted at him, suspicious. What did he want? Why was he here, even knowing (guessing, Keiji supposed) what Keiji was?

He’d heard of mortals who tried (even succeeded, sometimes) to catch sirens, displayed them in great tanks like common fish, or slaughtered them like some sort of trophy.

“Perhaps,” he replied finally, watching carefully so that if Bokuto moved toward him, he could escape. “And you are a human, Bokuto Koutarou. What of it?”

Bokuto stayed perfectly still. Keiji wasn't sure what it meant. “I thought so.”

“Are you so daft as to be unsure of your own race, mortal?”

“What?” Bokuto blinked rapidly, confused. And then he did something unexpected. He laughed. “Oh!” he gasped out. “No, no. I was talking about you, and the whole, y’know. Being a siren.”

Keiji’s brow furrowed. He hadn't been trying to be funny. Why was this man so amused?

“Can I ask your name?”

Keiji frowned even more. “Why do you wish to know? What spell do you hope to cast on me?”

Bokuto shook his head, eyes wide. “No trick! No spells! I only know how to use them on metal anyway,” he said, hurriedly. “I just… I wanna know, ‘s’all.”

“Metal?” Keiji asked, rather than give a straight answer. “That's awfully specific.” Not to mention difficult-- the only way one could ensure a spell would stick to metal was if--

Ah.

“Are you a blacksmith, Bokuto-san?”

“How did you know?” Bokuto seemed delighted, if anything.

Keiji could still salvage this, he thought. He just had to figure out whether last night had been a fluke because he’d been out of practice for so long, or if it had something to do with Bokuto himself-- maybe that amulet around his neck; it looked like solid metal, and if Bokuto had forged it himself… there was likely magic infused in it. Magic that was his only protection against Keiji.

Keiji stepped closer to Bokuto, then, and to his surprise, the man did not move away.

Foolish, of course, but all the better for Keiji.

“Well, you mentioned working with metal,” Keiji began. He took another step closer. “And you have a very powerful build, good for smithing and the heavy lifting that goes with it.” Another step. Now, he was close enough to touch Bokuto, if he reached out. This he did, and the mortal-- this stupid, stupid man-- didn't so much as flinch, not even when Keiji made contact, cool palms sliding up from his hands, to his forearms, to his elbows. “Your hands and arms are covered in scars, mostly from burns,” he noted, eyes following the trail his own fingers made across Bokuto’s skin. “Not to mention…” 

Keiji came even closer, so they were pressed nearly chest to chest. He peered up at Bokuto through his lashes and watched the man swallow-- out of nerves or something else, Keiji wasn't sure, but the man still did not pull away. Keiji inhaled deeply, released the air in one warm breath that ghosted over Bokuto’s throat. “You smell of steel and sweat and iron,” he finished, voice low.

Bokuto sucked in a small breath of his own. He was quiet for a long minute. “Ah,” he said finally. “So I do.”

His eyes were dull again, and Keiji felt his own magic snaking around this mortal and holding tight. It was now or never. 

He started out humming under his breath, building in volume and magic until he was singing in earnest, the strongest song he knew. In his thrall, Bokuto allowed the siren to wrap his arms around him, pull the blacksmith further and further from land.

And just like last night, when the first wave washed over Bokuto’s head, he snapped back to himself-- and Keiji, also like the night before, was gone.

/////

“You tried to drown me again!” came the accusation, as Keiji broke the water’s surface the third night in a row.

“And yet,” Keiji drawled, “Here you are once more, despite knowing my nature.” Keiji was trying to wrap his head around the fact that Bokuto had returned. Again. What on earth was this mortal hoping to gain?

Bokuto looked to be… pouting? “...I guess,” he mumbled. He shivered, wrapped his arms around himself. “It’s cold out here. How do you stand it?”

“Bokuto-san, we have very different bodies, though it doesn't appear that way at the moment,” he sighed, not merging his tail into legs. He maintained some distance between himself and the human and didn't speak for a moment. Then, “Why are you here?”

“You still haven't told me your name, siren,” Bokuto said, in lieu of a proper response.

Keiji considered this-- did he want to give Bokuto his name? Did he believe him when he said that he could only use magic on metal?

Well, so far, Bokuto seemed very… childish. Simple-minded. Not to mention the strange magnetism Bokuto exuded, the kind that made Keiji  _ want  _ to believe in him. Hm. Maybe a compromise. “You can call me Akaashi,” he said, simply.

Bokuto smiled. “Akaashi,” he echoed, as if trying it out, tasting it on his tongue. “I like it. Is that your only name? Or is it your last name?”

Keiji shrugged, shoulders rolling like the swell and fall of a wave. “Who knows? You’ll have to work to earn anything else.”

“Fair enough.”

“You have yet to answer  _ my  _ question, human. Why are you here?”

Bokuto gave a shrug of his own, absently swilling his hands through the water. “I just… wanted to get to know you, really.”

Keiji stared at him. He wanted to get to know his attempted murderer? Even after two times that Keiji had tried to drown him? Was he an idiot? Or was he more powerful that he let on?

… No, Keiji decided, a beat later. That was impossible. Magic that strong gave off an aura, and Keiji would have sensed it.

So he was just… that daft. A shame, really, but Keiji could take advantage of it. Last night had proven that there was another factor at work protecting Bokuto-- it could hardly have been Keiji, when he had practiced so thoroughly the night before, after his first failure.

Which meant that if Keiji could figure out for certain what that external factor was, specifically, he could take it away. And then he could take Bokuto with him, down into the deep.

He only had to play along, for a little while.

“Me? Whatever for?” Keiji asked, batting his lashes at Bokuto. He came a little closer, and just like the night before… Bokuto let him.

How could he keep trusting Keiji?

“Well… everyone says sirens are evil and cruel, and I mean. I know you tried to drown me, but you don't… seem to hate me or anything? So I just kind of… want to know why you do it. Is it. Just because you're supposed to? Because you're a siren?”

Keiji couldn't help but scoff at the word ‘evil’. “Nothing is inherently evil in this world,” he said. “You humans are the only ones who think evil is born, not made.” He reached up, brushed aside a lock of hair that was making his head itch-- Bokuto’s eyes tracked the movement, Keiji noted. “But…” he mused. “Cruel is probably accurate.”

What else did you call a species born to drown another?

“So why do you do it?” Bokuto pressed, watching Keiji carefully.

Keiji wondered if maybe he shouldn't just leave after all; choose a different target. There were far more men than this one, and they were unlikely to have the same protection afforded to them as Bokuto did.

But he’d waited three nights already. What was one more, in the scheme of things?

“Truth be told,” Keiji began, tilting his head up to look at the stars above. He traced the constellations with his eyes, marveled at them in a way he rarely did. Maybe he should come up here more often. “I don't find it nearly as amusing as my siblings do. But they don't seem inclined to let me alone until I bring some mortal home.” He glanced sideways at Bokuto. “So we made a deal. If I drown someone and find it just as boring as I remember it, they’ll stop pestering me about it.”

Bokuto hummed. “Why do they need to force you? If you don't want to do it… why should you?”

Keiji had thought that many times himself, but now, faced with the same question, he felt the need to defend his brothers and sisters. “It’s what we were born to do, Bokuto-san. That is all. You mortals couldn't possibly understand-- you have choices. You aren't born to be a blacksmith. You are born a boy; nothing more.”

“Maybe for other people,” Bokuto chuckled, lifting his gaze to follow Keiji’s. “Not me. My family is a famous line of blacksmiths, has been for 7 generations. It was kind of expected I’d follow in their footsteps,” he explained. “I'm pretty sure they’ve been taking me to the forge since I was old enough to see over the top of the anvil-- and I was a tall kid!”

Keiji shook his head. “That's still different, Bokuto-san. It's as close as you can get, but it's still a league's worth of difference away from my situation.” He held up a hand between him and Bokuto. “Look. You see this hand? It looks like yours. Feels like it too. But it's not the same-- because down to my very bones, there is magic ingrained in it; magic intended to fascinate you… and drag you under.”

Bokuto blinked at him. “Well… I don't know about that, I guess.” Keiji was aware of that. Why else would he have pointed it out?

Keiji lowered his hand and his head, turned to face Bokuto fully again. “Well, mortal? I answered your questions. Would you answer one of mine?”

“Sure!” Bokuto grinned, not even hesitating. “What d’you want to know?”

Keiji bit his lip. What should he ask first? Ask about the amulet right now? That might make even Bokuto wary though, and that would hardly serve him well.

In that case, there was one other thing he was curious about… “You said you wanted to get to know me. Why?”

“Well…” Bokuto scratched at the back of his neck, flushing slightly. Keiji could only tell because of his enhanced night vision, really, but… he didn't think he’d mind seeing it another day, when the moon was higher, brighter. “You don't look as mean as they say you sirens are. They say you're monsters, but… you don't look like one.”

Keiji sighed. “If we looked hideous, how would we lure anybody? We are  _ meant  _ to look harmless. Harmless and beautiful.”

“And you are!” Bokuto blurted. Keiji’s eyes went wide, and without his consent, one corner of his mouth quirked in a small, lopsided smile. Bokuto looked fairly embarrassed by his outburst, shrinking back a bit. “Well… you are. Beautiful. I mean.”

“Thank you.” He paused. “Was that the only reason?”

Bokuto shrugged. “The only one I know how to explain. There was something else, but it was just instinct.”

“Instinct?” Keiji repeated. What kind of disastrous instincts did Bokuto have, that they would lead him to a siren repeatedly? 

Again, Bokuto shrugged. “That you were different from other sirens. Which is weird, I guess, since I haven't met a siren before, other than you, but… my instincts are pretty good. I trust them.”

Keiji didn't think they could be all  _ that  _ good if they had brought Bokuto within death’s reach not just once but twice, but Keiji had to admit, they’d been at least partially right. Keiji didn't exactly fit the traditional idea of sirens-- he wasn't nearly as flippant or flighty as most of his siblings, and while he was aware of his charms, he wasn't cocky like most of the others.

So maybe Bokuto’s instincts had some merit after all.

“Will you answer another question, Bokuto-san?”

“Sure thing. What is it?”

“What is that medal around your neck?” He pointed, and Bokuto’s hand immediately flew up to finger the grooves of the seal engraved in it.

“Well… if I tell you, you have to promise not to try and kill me anymore! All right?”

Keiji raised his eyebrows. By saying that, Bokuto had basically answered the question and affirmed Keiji’s suspicions… but still, it couldn't hurt to know for sure by hearing it straight from Bokuto’s mouth. Besides, either way, he’d need to earn Bokuto’s trust if he meant to take it away-- he didn't like to lie, but he certainly could if he needed to.

“Very well,” Keiji said, with no intention of keeping his word for much longer than necessary.

Bokuto beamed at him, and then he picked up the amulet in one hand, weighing it in his palm. “It’s a family heirloom. The design is our family seal, see? An owl in flight.” He held it as far away from his body as the cord allowed-- not very far, which meant Keiji had to wade closer to him and lean in to examine it. He had to admit, though worn, the engraving was skillful, each line distinct. “We put a new protection spell in it whenever one of us steps up as the new head blacksmith, so it's got some really strong magic now.”

Ah. So Keiji had been correct, in the end. “I see,” he murmured, dragging one fingertip down the spread of one of the owl’s wings. Like this, he could feel the hum of the power through it, the energy and intent behind it. How had he missed it before?

He stepped back. “Thank you, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto smiled at him yet again. Keiji had to admit-- it was a nice smile.

/////

They talked long into the night, and Bokuto made Keiji swear to return the next evening as well. Keiji had intended to from the start-- how else would he get close to Bokuto? 

Still, he assured the man that he would be there, and then he dove back into the waves. He knew Bokuto was still watching as his legs merged, skin changing into scales the color of quicksilver and mercury, dotted with gold here and there. It was a gorgeous tail, of course, and the envy of many of his sisters. His brothers didn't particularly care-- they liked their tails darker, sleeker.

But here, like this, knowing that Bokuto’s eyes were on him all the way until he dove too deep for the moon’s light to catch him… Keiji rather thought he liked having something as eye catching as silver.

/////

Bokuto soon picked up a habit of asking about Keiji’s capabilities as a siren, but Keiji declined to answer them, following his better instincts to be cautious.

Bokuto didn't seem too bothered by this, if vaguely offended that Keiji seemed hesitant to trust him completely. Keiji pointed out with a raised eyebrow that Bokuto himself didn't trust Keiji completely-- he always wore the medal, and Keiji had caught him checking for its presence every so often, especially after Keiji had touched him or come too close.

The blacksmith turned red from shame, but he did nothing to deny the accusation. It was true after all.

“It is only natural to be careful around something more powerful than yourself,” Keiji said, waving a hand in dismissal. “I do not mind.”

“You aren't that much more powerful than I am,” Bokuto argued, pursing his lips. As if to prove his point in some indirect way (Keiji doubted Bokuto had done this intentionally, though), the blacksmith crossed his arms over his chest, drawing attention to the muscles there and the way they bunched up with the motion.

Keiji rolled his eyes. “Believe that if you wish, but trust me, it will get you killed.”

Bokuto squawked, flailing around as if he were already drowning-- Keiji would have been more impressed if he really were; at least it would save Keiji the work. “You promised not to try anymore!”

“I did.”

“Then you gotta keep your word!”

Keiji sighed. For now, at least, that was true. “Yes, Bokuto-san.”

/////

“Bokuto-san,” Keiji said, another evening. “You said once before that you didn't have much choice being a blacksmith. Does that mean you don't like what you do?”

“What?” Bokuto shook his head wildly, hair flying all over the place. Keiji was glad the blacksmith at least kept it cut short, otherwise it likely would have smacked him in the face. “No! Far from it!”

“So you chose it. What did you mean that time, then?”

Bokuto’s face scrunched up as he-- or so Keiji assumed-- tried to remember the time Keiji was referring to. “ _ Oh _ ,” he said, as realization dawned.

“Mmhm.”

“Well, it's true, I guess. I chose it-- but only because I’d been raised to, you know?”

Keiji did not know, so he waited quietly for Bokuto to continue.

“I like smithing. I do. But sometimes it seems like the only reason I do is because that's what I was taught. ‘Doesn't it make you proud, Koutarou?’, grandfather would say. ‘If you do it like this, you can be a very strong man one day, Kou,’ father would say. I grew to like it, but sometimes…” he trailed off, sighing. “Sometimes I wonder if I would have liked it as much on my own, if I had been allowed to try other things.”

Keiji… sort of understood that. It wasn't quite the same, of course. His siblings pressured him, certainly, but in the end, all they were saying were the facts. Drowning mortals was all a siren was born for. Divine punishment of some sort, for the many of their own whom they’d sent to die in the ocean’s arms. But if Keiji were something else… if he were a normal mermaid, perhaps. Would he still do what he was doing? Would he still have found some fleeting entertainment in a human’s struggle against the water, as he had in his youth?

He didn't know. Maybe not-- or maybe he only thought that now, after knowing Bokuto.

Keiji wasn't really sure why he cared about this, but before he could dwell on it too long, another question slipped from his mouth. “When did you grow to like it?” It was a simple question, and incredibly inane. But then, how long ago had they both-- or Keiji, at least-- stopped caring about the weight of the questions? 

Bokuto’s eyes brightened in that way they did when he got excited, and his hands rose to gesture in the air-- Keiji knew this man would likely spin the tale wildly out of proportion, paint it to seem so much larger than life-- but he found he didn't mind at all. 

Actually, he might even miss it, just a little, when this was all over.

/////

Many nights passed this way--

Bokuto would show up in the same place, Keiji would surface to find him waiting, and they would talk. Keiji would ask him questions. Bokuto would ask his own.

It was… dare Keiji say... pleasant.

Bokuto was honest in ways Keiji couldn't imagine being with a complete stranger, especially one who had already tried to drown him not once but twice. In return, Keiji reluctantly lowered a few of his own walls.

Soon, they were almost friends. Almost.

Keiji had never forgotten his goal, but now that he had earned some of Bokuto’s trust, Keiji wasn't entirely sure he knew how to break it. It felt too precious-- which was ridiculous of course. Bokuto was just a human, frail and short-lived. Why should Keiji pander to his weak heart?

In the meanwhile, he and Bokuto joked, laughed, told stories. Keiji’s siblings teased him relentlessly, mocked him for what they saw as failure.

“Why don't you just move on?” Akemi (the youngest of them all) asked. “There are plenty of other mortals you could wrap around your finger in a heartbeat, Keiji-nii.”

“It won't be much longer now,” Keiji said, feeling a tad defensive. This was his  _ choice.  _ It wasn't some unfortunate circumstance or consequence of his incompetence-- it was a challenge that Keiji chose to take. And when it was over, not only would Keiji get his siblings off his back, he would have the amulet as a trophy-- one to prove that he could play the long game and still come out on top.

“So you say, nii-chan,” Akemi replied, tone practically dripping doubt. “But it  _ has _ been nearly a full cycle of the moon. What's stopping you?”

Keiji didn't have an answer for her.

/////

Most of their lives happened to be routine, as most people’s were, so Keiji was unsurprised to find that they eventually ran out of things to say about themselves-- at least, things that they were willing to divulge.

So it went that one night, when Bokuto arrived, he held his hand out to Keiji.

Keiji drew back a little. “What is it, Bokuto-san?” He eyed the mortal’s outstretched fingers but made no move to take them in his own.

He knew by now that Bokuto was exceedingly earnest. The blacksmith didn't have any hidden agenda as far as Keiji could tell, and was genuinely interested in learning about Keiji-- his likes and dislikes, his hopes, his fears.

It was odd… but not unwelcome. Keiji’s siblings certainly never asked him such things.

Still, that didn't mean Keiji wasn't wary of any tricks Bokuto might pull. It was entirely possible that, like Keiji, he was only trying to lull the other into complacency.

“Well, I’ve run all out of stories to regale you with, Akaashi, so I thought we could make one of our own today.” Bokuto’s smile didn't waver, and neither did his hand fall.

Keiji remained still. “And what, pray tell, do you mean by that, Bokuto-san?”

If possible, Bokuto’s grin brightened, dazzling like the sun glinting across the crests of the ocean waves. For a second, it blinded Keiji-- and then he blinked, and it was just Bokuto again, just his normal smile. “There's a festival in the village tonight. Come with me.”

Keiji hesitated. A human village? For a festival? It wasn't like he cared for shiny lights or loud firecrackers, and human music was nice enough but paled in comparison to siren song. What would he have to gain from such a venture?

“Come on, ‘Kaashi! It will be fun, I swear it!”

Ah. Of course. It would make Bokuto happy-- and that, in turn, would bring them closer, help Keiji slip past the blacksmith’s mistrust (what little of it there was) and make it easier for Keiji to procure the amulet.

Keiji slipped his hand into Bokuto’s, staunchly ignoring how warm and wonderful it felt in his own. “Very well,” he sighed. 

/////

Bokuto led him to the shore, waiting patiently when Keiji found himself pausing at the very edge of the water, where the sand faded from damp and packed into loose and dry. Sirens rarely left the water-- in fact, most never stepped foot out of it their whole lives.

Keiji was about to do it. And on the whim of a human no less. I’m sure you understand what Keiji felt like, stepping into what was basically the unknown.

You have most likely felt a similar way, once before. Maybe when you entered grade school or high school for the first time-- a new class, new environment, new expectations… you’d probably already heard stories from your parents and your siblings (or, if you don't have those, cousins) about what it would be like. But you didn't know how true any of it was. Not really. Because you hadn't actually been there yet.

When you were finally there, it must have seemed so vast and mysterious; you were most likely hoping with all your heart that more of the good stories were true, rather than the bad.

This was how Keiji felt, deep down, though he let none of it show on his face. Still, it was because of this nervousness that it took him a good minute before he lifted first his right foot and brought it forward, and then the left after it.

Bokuto squeezed his fingers in reassurance, and together, they made their way into town.

/////

The festival was  _ loud _ . Louder than Keiji had expected. Everywhere was just… noise. There was the clamor of merchants fighting to be heard over the din of conversations, children running amok, screaming and laughing in equal measure… there was the sizzle of oil in pans and the crackle-bang of fireworks, and a whole host of other sounds so tangled together Keiji couldn't identify them.

Sight, smell, touch-- every sense Keiji had felt overloaded. There were brilliant lanterns strung everywhere, in every color Keiji knew. There were streamers and ribbons, tapestries and great paper kites hung up wherever there was room, with seemingly no rhyme or reason. The scent of what must have been at least a hundred different dishes-- sweet and savory alike-- mixed together in the air with the smell of people and the salt of the nearby sea. And the crowd-- they were everywhere, pressing against his sides, his back, brushing past his arms and his legs.

The only thing stronger than it all was the call of the sea. Soft and coaxing for now, it was soothing, a grounding point for Keiji amid this undeniably human chaos. Keiji closed his eyes and tuned everything out but for that song that only he could hear.

“Akaashi?”

Keiji opened his eyes to find Bokuto looking at him in concern, hand still laced tightly with his own. 

“You’ll have to keep up, Akaashi. It's easy to get lost with all these people,” he said, and the siren nodded.

“Of course. My apologies. I was merely… overwhelmed.” When Bokuto’s expression fell, mouth parting, surely, to start fussing over him, Keiji smiled. “I am better now. Thank you.”

Bokuto considered this, tilting his head to one side as he did so. Then he said, “If you're certain. But should you decide you aren't after all, let me know, and we can go back.”

This, Keiji thought, was a very considerate offer, if unnecessary. How a human could be so compassionate towards something like Keiji… he truly didn't know. “I will, Bokuto-san.”

Satisfied with this, Bokuto seemed to come alive, dragging Keiji deeper in. He was practically skipping with excitement as he gushed over his favorite parts of the celebration and what Keiji  _ must  _ try and… whatever else took his fancy-- and there was no shortage of things that did.

Keiji was more amused by Bokuto’s over-exaggerated reactions to everything than he was actually impressed by the humans’ festivities. Bokuto treated it all as if it were his first and last time experiencing such a thing; that is to say, he looked on it with wide-eyed awe that mirrored that of the young children chasing each other down the narrow paths, and he seemed determined to make each and every moment last as long as he was able.

Keiji couldn't entirely avoid enjoying himself, either. He had to admit, the food was good, the crowd soon felt less oppressive and more… cozy. And little by little, Keiji began to slip in more affection into his actions, building up that trust and romance that would eventually win Keiji the amulet.

He started slow, inching closer to Bokuto with the excuse of the packed pathways-- except when the crowds thinned, Keiji didn't bother to pull away.

He laughed when Bokuto laughed, let himself get caught staring at him with a small smile on his face, shared food and dessert with him… won him prizes and allowed Bokuto to do the same for him.

And when things were winding down for the night, Keiji asked him if they could move somewhere a little more quiet, just the two of them.

Bokuto led them to a small shrine to the east of the village, and they took seats on a small stone bench away from shrine itself. “You all right, Akaash’?”

Keiji nodded. “For now, yes.”

“For now? What about later?”

The siren reached up to brush some hair out of his eyes, turning his gaze to where he knew the ocean was, even with all the forest and buildings in the way. “Well, the ocean is calling me, Bokuto-san. If I ignore it for much longer, it will start to hurt.” A gust of wind blew through, and though Keiji didn't shiver--

Before they’d gone to the festival proper, Bokuto had taken them on a detour to his forge. He’d needed his haori, he’d said, and Keiji reluctantly followed. It was this haori that Bokuto slipped from his shoulders now. “Are you cold, Akaashi?”

“Bokuto-san, I’ve told you before, our bodies are actually quite different. I don't feel--” Bokuto spread the haori over Keiji’s shoulders anyway. The siren sighed and smiled. “Thank you, Bokuto-san,” he said, one hand coming up to cup Bokuto’s cheek. The human needed it more than Keiji did, truth be told, but… the gesture and the concern were nice, in their own way.

“Does it really hurt? The ocean calling?” Bokuto murmured, as Keiji’s head turned yet again to where he could feel the water was tugging at him.

“The song itself does not,” Keiji replied, twisting his chin with some effort to focus on the blacksmith once more. “It is the resisting that does.” Keiji lowered his fingers from Bokuto’s face, reached for his hand instead as if for comfort. Bokuto let him.

“Song? The ocean sings?”

Keiji hummed in agreement. "I’m a siren. The ocean sings to me like I sing to you, when I am away from it. Where do you think we sirens first learned our songs?"

Bokuto shifted closer to Keiji for warmth, though surely the human knew he was much warmer than Keiji could ever be. “Hm. What does it sound like?”

The siren raised an eyebrow. “You are asking me to sing? You know what happened the last time, don't you?”

“Well, you promised not to do it again, didn't you?” Bokuto waited for Keiji to nod. When he did, the blacksmith beamed, lacing his fingers with Keiji’s. “Then it's all right.”

Fool. Promises were such easy things to break. They were just words, after all. But still, Keiji couldn't yet risk losing Bokuto’s trust-- this was a good opportunity, certainly, but there would be other ones. Better ones.

Ones where he wasn't the only one of his kind, far from the sea he called home.

He closed his eyes and sang.

/////

Shortly after, once Bokuto had shaken himself free of the trance (“I did warn you, Bokuto-san--” “It’s all right, Akaashi! I know you did!”), Bokuto walked Keiji back to the beach.

“This was fun,” he said, smiling shyly.

It had been, actually. Keiji hadn't expected to enjoy it much at all, but it had been surprisingly… wonderful. “It was,” he agreed.

Keiji had stayed far too late, and he could hear the ocean’s song crashing in his ears, drowning out anything else--

Anything else but Bokuto, somehow.

What a strange and powerful human.

As if to prove how long Keiji had been away from home, the sky started to lighten, heralding the first rays of sunlight that would be creeping up the horizon soon. It was a lovely sight, but Keiji couldn't stay to watch it.

“Thank you for the company, Bokuto-san,” Keiji said. He allowed his lips to quirk up in a smile, soft and gentle. “And for the story. Maybe my siblings would like to hear it one day.” He doubted it, but Bokuto didn't need to know that.

Bokuto seemed to glow with pride at that, chirping, “You’re very welcome, Akaashi!”

Keiji started to walk into the surf, but then he paused. “Bokuto-san?”

“Yes, Akaashi?”

Keiji turned back to the blacksmith, closed the distance between them once more, and took Bokuto’s face in his hands. Bokuto stared down at him.

“Goodnight,” Keiji breathed, pressing his lips to Bokuto’s cheek for just a moment. When he stepped back, he was satisfied to see the pink dusting the blacksmith’s cheeks, especially when Bokuto, for just a millisecond, looked like he wanted to chase after Keiji and get a kiss on the lips instead.

Keiji walked away, diving back into the tides, and as the water welcomed him back, wrapped around him like the arms of a lover… he knew Bokuto was watching after him.

Wanting.

Just as he should.

/////

“Hey Akaashi,” Bokuto began.

“Yes?”

“Last night… you kissed me?”

Keiji fought back a laugh. The way Bokuto said it, like it was a question in itself-- as if he didn't trust his own memory-- was almost endearing. He somehow managed to maintain a straight face, saying, “Did you find it unpleasant?”

“I!!! No! That is to say!!! The opposite, really!” The recollection was enough to send color to Bokuto’s face, and Keiji let the smile slip free of his grasp.

“I'm merely teasing, Bokuto-san,” he said, chuckling slightly at the blacksmith’s complaints. “What did you want to say?”

The blacksmith waded a little deeper into the water. Usually, he stopped where the water was waist-high, and Keiji usually lingered a little deeper. Today, he came forward until he drew level with the siren.

A sign of trust-- misplaced, of course, but Keiji wasn't going to tell him that.

“I just… did you mean it, Akaashi?”

Keiji blinked. Was there a way to not mean a kiss? He was sure accidental ones happened every now and then, but that seemed pretty difficult to achieve--

“I mean…” Bokuto trailed off, searching for the words to express himself. “Did you do it because you wanted to? Or because you want to drown me?”

If Keiji weren't already cold blooded, he was sure the question would have made his blood turn freezing in his veins. Especially with the way Bokuto was staring at him, as if he could see right to every thought that had ever run through Keiji’s mind.

For once, his eyes weren’t just something uniquely attractive, but something  _ eerie _ with their intensity. Almost predatory.

Keiji turned away, if only because he didn't think he could handle matching Bokuto’s gaze anymore. “I wanted to,” he said, and was surprised to find the statement rung true. Yes, he had done it because it would help him grow closer to Bokuto-- but…

That wasn't all. Bokuto had shown up every night to visit Keiji, to talk to him. He trusted Keiji with stories about his life, about who he was in his heart of hearts.

Keiji had never had another siren genuinely like him enough to want to be around him so often before. For a mortal to feel that way about him? It made no sense. And that had piqued his interest.

He lifted his head to look into Bokuto’s eyes again.

Whatever Bokuto saw in them seemed to convince him, because he grinned the same as always, like nothing unusual had happened. The tension between them was gone, just like that. “Good. Because y’know, Akaashi, I really… want to try kissing you properly, but… I want to be sure. I really like you! You're sweet and funny in this… wry sort of way, and you talk to me like an equal-- well, mostly. You still call me ‘human’ or ‘mortal’ sometimes like it’s that bad a thing to be and--”

Keiji pressed his lips to Bokuto’s, if only to silence his unnecessary rambling. The blacksmith gasped against his mouth, and then he practically melted in Keiji’s hold, arms lifting up to take Keiji by the waist and drag him closer.

And Keiji, as a siren, had learned long ago how to kiss. He knew just how to use what he had to his advantage, how to use just right amount of tongue and teeth, how to set the rhythm with the movement of his lips.

But oh, how Bokuto kissed--

It was nothing like Keiji had ever known. It was aggressive and claiming like a brand against Keiji’s mouth, burning like iron fresh from the fire--

But it was also unbearably soft-- like whispered secrets in the dead of night, like a tentative squeeze of the fingers that were the only familiar thing in a crowd. It was like a faith granted without hesitance to a creature undeserving in the slightest.

Keiji pulled back, catching at Bokuto’s lower lip with his teeth as he went. The blacksmith groaned a little, and Keiji couldn't stop a small triumphant smirk from spreading on his face.

Bokuto took a moment to catch his breath, and then he pouted at Keiji. “That was hardly fair,” he told the siren, failing to entirely tamp down the amusement in his voice.

He shrugged. “Well, maybe you should talk less before doing it next time,” he retorted, raising an eyebrow in challenge. 

Bokuto mirrored the expression. “As you wish.”

/////

They kissed a little more before Bokuto remembered that he had brought food for them to share today.

“Food?” Keiji echoed.

Bokuto nodded. “Exactly! I brought some of the dishes you seemed to really like at the festival. They're in a basket back on the beach so they don't get ruined… You’ll be fine as long as you're in the water, right?”

His hand was already extended, and Keiji took it easily (something he had only done once before seemed so simple now-- how quickly Keiji had changed). “Yes, I should be fine,” he said, as they walked hand in hand to where the waves washed up against the shore.

Where the water became barely more than a thin sheen over the sand, that was where Keiji took his seat, folding his knees gracefully beneath him to sit on his heels.

Bokuto blinked at him. “Oh. You're so formal, Akaashi. There’s no need for that.”

“Am I?”

“You are,” Bokuto said. “But I don't mind. Just thought you might be uncomfortable.”

Keiji smiled at his concern. However unwarranted, it was certainly appreciated. “I am quite all right. Thank you, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto sat down cross-legged on the sand and opened up the basket, pulling out a small spread of cloth-wrapped bundles. “You really liked the nanohana, yesterday,” he was saying. “So I brought a lot of that.”

He held out the first bundle. Keiji took it, unwrapping it slowly. “Will you have some, Bokuto-san?”

The blacksmith in question shook his head. “No. I don't like it very much, if I’m honest with you. I just wanted you to try everything at the festival, and I knew you wouldn't eat anything I didn't have too.”

“What reason would I have had to do that?” he asked, testing the waters. Was it that instinct of Bokuto’s again? Was it his way of being polite?

Bokuto glanced at him. “You didn’t trust me completely, then,” he said, leaving no room for argument.

… Then again, time and time again, this human proved he was more perceptive than he seemed.

“And now?”

Around them, the only sound was the whoosh of the wind, the whisper of the sea against the sand. Their only company was the stars overhead and the ever-glowing moon.

And then, Bokuto murmured, “Well, I don't know. I think only you can tell me that.” He handed Keiji a pair of chopsticks, then opened a bundle of his own, this one with… had Bokuto called it onigiri? “Do you trust me, Akaashi?”

Keiji contemplated the chopsticks in his hand, then used them to pick up some of the vegetables, raising them to his lips. He lifted his gaze to Bokuto’s. “I do.”

“Ah,” Bokuto sighed, leaning back on one hand. “That makes me happy.”

And Keiji-- it was then that Keiji realized he truly, really did like Bokuto. This wasn't just a passing curiosity, like he’d first thought. 

How did he know, reader?

He knew because when he heard that statement, all Keiji could think was this: he was glad that Bokuto was happy. He wanted to make Bokuto the happiest man in the world, even if just for an instant--

Because this man had met a monster and seen a person. Because this man had met a murderer and given him his faith.

Because this man unthinkingly gave and gave and gave, without receiving anything in return and Keiji--

Keiji didn't know what to do with a man like that other than what he could to bring him joy, because a man as rare as he deserved at least that much.

Men… men were so often selfish. He had in his time seen them fight and shove each other aside in their haste and desperation to claim a siren’s attention-- driven partly by the siren song, yes, but also by their own baser instincts to claw their way to the top, no matter the cost. He had seen them mutilate and slaughter their own over petty feuds, had watched war after war for greed and glory--

But Bokuto didn't seem interested in any of that.

Maybe Keiji simply hadn't known him long enough.

Keiji didn't think that was the case. Keiji thought… Keiji thought that come hell or high water, Bokuto would always choose what was right for others, even if it meant self-sacrifice.

And for the first time, Keiji realized he was in love--

And he was horrified.

/////

Now I'm sure you are eager to know why. How could Keiji feel so terribly about something so beautiful, so wondrous as love?

But how would you feel, to know from the very instant you knew you loved someone that you would have to kill them?

Surely, you say, Keiji could have turned his back on his siblings. For love, anything is possible…

But it was not that simple. It is not easy to turn away from all that you have ever known, all that you have been raised to think-- especially when you have kept that mindset for years upon years upon years, hoarding it in your heart like a miser does his gold. You keep it close, protect it from the world that will try to sway you into changing your mind… and when something happens to make you think of letting it go, you find yourself so used to its presence that you almost physically ache at the very thought of losing it.

And that was not all. Our Keiji was a rational sort of siren, and love is so rarely a rational thing. Love was not what bled when the weapons came out, nor was it the one that was tempted by the song of the sea. It did not feel the creaks and pains of a body too far out of its element.

So it was easy for love to claim a human and say,  _ This. This is the one _ .

But Keiji could not say the same. Keiji would be the one the mortals killed for existing, for being born a siren instead of a man. Keiji would be the one pulled day by day to the shoreline, to the currents of the water. Keiji would be the one whose muscles ceased to work, whose legs burned like hellfire if he avoided the water too long.

Keiji would suffer. And in turn so would Bokuto.

_ Nothing _ , Keiji told himself,  _ would ever come from a siren loving a human _ .  _ Nothing but hurt _ .

Keiji lowered his chopsticks, neatly folded the now-bare cloth in his hands and tucked it back into the box. He looked Bokuto in the eyes and asked, “And what of you, Bokuto-san? Do you trust me in return?”

_ You shouldn't. _

_ Run. Run and don't come back. _

_ I  _ will  _ kill you. _

“I do!” He declared, for all the world to hear-- proud and unbendable as a mountain. “I do,” he said again, softer-- tender, caring, like a caress and a kiss.

_ Nothing will ever come of a siren loving a human _ , Keiji told himself.  _ Even if he would certainly love you back. _

He said nothing.

/////

When Bokuto returned the following night, the first thing Keiji noticed was--

“You’re hurt, Bokuto-san,” he said, reaching for the blacksmith’s hand. It was clumsily wrapped in bandages, and Keiji could smell the tang of blood coming from his palm. “Did you cut yourself?”

“Ah,” Bokuto replied, sheepishly rubbing his free hand against the back of his neck. “I was careless in the workshop today, is all. It will look worse than it feels, really,” he added, as Keiji began unwinding the bandage. The cut was clean, at least, though still bleeding, if not as profusely as it must have been.

Keiji’s mouth moved before his mind could catch up. “Would you like me to heal it for you?” It was a very bizarre situation for Keiji to be in, since usually his trouble lay in the opposite-- in putting his thoughts to rest so he could put a plan into action instead of turning it over and over in his mind until it went sour.

Now, he wondered if he shouldn't take that back. These sorts of siren songs-- the ones for anything other than seducing and luring-- they were secret treasures, meant only for the sirens themselves and the ocean around them. 

But it was too late; Bokuto was looking at him curiously, his golden eyes like stars that Keiji wished he didn't have to snuff out and--

He could do this much for the man he loved. He could do nothing to save  _ him _ , but he could save him some pain--

It was laughably pathetic, but that was all he could do.

He explained, “Not all siren songs are for clouding and persuading the mind, Bokuto-san. Most of them, yes… but there are some special ones, secret ones, that we save for our own use. Songs to heal. To save. To remind or to wipe clean a memory.” He handed Bokuto the bandages, and he tucked them away somewhere on his person-- Keiji knew not where, nor did it matter to him. “I could, if you would let me.”

Keiji’s fingers traced lightly down the lines of Bokuto’s palm, careful to give the wound a wide berth. Still, Keiji could feel Bokuto tense as saltwater dripped into the wound from Keiji’s skin, could feel him twitch with the urge to scratch or wrap up the bloody thing once more.

He stayed still, left his hand in Keiji’s grip.

“I already told you, Akaashi,” Bokuto breathed, in something like a prayer. “I trust you.”

Keiji peered up at Bokuto through his lashes; deep, endless blue met shining, sunshine gold, and found in them not even an inkling of doubt. As if the word didn't even exist in this man’s vocabulary.

_ What a fool. _

The siren nodded, dropped his gaze to the cut once more, and began to sing.

/////

When people talk about healing, they make it sound… soothing. They make it seem soft and warm and comfortable all the time-- a good situation that makes your body feel good to match.

But that isn't always the case. You must know this, don't you?

When there is a wound, you must first wash it clean with alcohol or soap. When a bone has been broken, or you’ve been stuck ill in bed too long, you have to learn how to use your muscles again, work them until they’re sore again and again until they regain their former strength. When you go to therapy, even, you must first dredge up the bad memories in order to let them go, piece by jagged piece.

And so this was the case with Bokuto. Keiji didn't know this-- it had been a long while since he had required healing-- but the first thing Bokuto felt was pain. Stinging, tingling pain, like rubbing salt into a wound.

But when that was done, there was the sweet feeling of having cool water poured over the cut, though neither Keiji nor he had moved, though there was no water other than what they were standing in. In Bokuto’s ears, there was suddenly, clearer than he had ever heard it, the sound of the ebb and flow of the tides, like a heartbeat, steady and strong and comforting.

And underneath it, Keiji’s voice, beautiful and mesmerizing, its cadence and volume rising and falling to match the pull and push of the current.

But only Bokuto knew this, and now, you. Keiji did not know, and Bokuto, even unto the end of his days, never quite found the words he needed to describe it for the siren, though he badly wished to.

/////

And so, Keiji healed Bokuto. Bokuto was more than amazed, staring at his hand with his mouth hanging open. “That…” he breathed. “That was fantastic! Akaashi, how--”

“Bokuto-san, you know how. I told you. It is a siren song.” Keiji tried to sound exasperated. He really did. It came out more fond than anything.

“Thank you!”

“Wait, Bokuto--”

_ Splash! _ Bokuto had tackled Keiji in a hug, knocking the other's legs out from under him and sending them both tumbling down into the water.

“I’m not that strong, Bokuto-san,” sighed Keiji, though the corners of his lips were twitching as he tried not to smile. “And not only are you almost disgustingly muscular, you also likely weigh significantly more than I.”

Bokuto was grinning. “Muscular, huh?” He wiggled his eyebrows, startling a small laugh from Keiji. He did it again. “You think I'm muscular?”

“Surely,” Keiji started, attempting to wriggle free of Bokuto’s hold and barely succeeding before Bokuto clamped down tighter. “Surely you know your own physique?”

Bokuto stood, effortlessly lifting Keiji along with him. Keiji wished he didn't find it so attractive, but gods help him, he did. He really did. 

The blacksmith said, “Well, of course I know it. I just didn't know you cared!” He wagged his eyebrows again.

“Stop it! You look ridiculous,” Keiji huffed, placing one hand over Bokuto’s brow to cover it up. Bokuto cackled, but let him-- mostly because both his hands were full keeping Keiji from falling. “And I never said I  _ cared _ . I merely observed it.”

“Oh,  _ observed _ ,” Bokuto repeated, as if this were some great and momentous revelation. He brought his mouth to Keiji’s ear, so that the siren could feel each warm word against the shell of it, goosebumps rising in the cold left behind. “You’ve been  _ observing _ me, have you? How closely?”

Keiji’s face burned, but he wasn't about to let a mortal best him in this, a competition of wits and charm; he was a siren, after all, and this was his area of expertise. “Closely enough,” he murmured, letting his arms rest on Bokuto’s shoulders in such a way that his fingers rested with just the slightest pressure against the nape of the blacksmith’s neck. He waited.

Bokuto did not disappoint. “Enough for what?” asked the blacksmith.

Keiji shifted, let his smirk press against the curve of Bokuto’s ear. “Enough to know you do the same, Bokuto-san,” he replied in a voice like satin. He felt the blacksmith shiver ever so slightly and pressed on, “You like looking at me, when you think I don't notice. Sometimes you look like you mean to kiss me. Sometimes you look like you mean to… well--” Keiji chuckled lightly, hands tracing the shape of Bokuto’s arms down to his elbows, then back up again as he pulled back. He let his eyes drop to Bokuto’s lips, and linger there for a brief, blessed second-- and then he lifted them again to meet Bokuto’s through the fan of his lashes. The blacksmith stayed very, very still-- so still, Keiji was just barely sure he was breathing. “I don't know, exactly.”

Keiji leaned in close, so that when he spoke next, his lips brushed across Bokuto’s. “What  _ do _ you want to do to me during those moments, Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto swallowed hard enough for it to be audible, but he didn't try to put any distance between them. “Honestly?” he said, hardly more than a whisper. He paused, and it took Keiji a beat to realize Bokuto was waiting for him to agree. He nodded. “I want to take you home,” Bokuto told him. “I want to take you home and make love to you-- I want to trace every inch of your body with my lips and I want you to know that you are the most beautiful, brilliant, magical being alive. And I want you to know that even if you weren't, I would love you still.”

Keiji shuddered. He wanted that. He wanted it so much.

But he couldn't have it. He didn't deserve it-- not when he was lying to Bokuto even now, not when he was a monster that would drown its one and only love for no reason other than…

Did he even have a reason? It was in his nature to kill, yes… but it had always been a choice, in the end.

So why was he still going through with this?

_ Because _ , he reminded himself fiercely,  _ nothing could ever come of this. Nothing but pain. _

Ah, but even then, Keiji was weak. He wanted to know more, wanted to have at least this one memory for himself; so that even when Bokuto was gone, nothing but a corpse weighted down and trapped on the ocean floor, Keiji could have this to look back on, this could-have-been to dream of. “Tell me more,” he breathed, a tremor in his voice. “Please.”

Bokuto obliged him. “I want to spend every night talking with you until the sun comes up, and I want to wake up early to see you lying next to me. I want to see what you look like when you're asleep, and how you act after you've just woken up. I want to know… well, everything about you that I don't already know.”

“I want the same,” he said, under his breath. And Keiji could never have that, but… it was nice to dream. 

Bokuto held him tighter, and though at this point, Keiji’s face was buried in the blacksmith’s shoulder, he could practically hear the warm smile in Bokuto’s voice when he replied, “I'm glad, Akaashi.”

Keiji was too ashamed to lift his head to see it.

/////

It was late when Keiji finally bid Bokuto goodnight (the sun was actually starting to rise in the horizon, so perhaps good morning would have been more accurate…)

When he returned home, he found Akemi waiting for him. “Keiji-nii,” she said, voice strangely devoid of inflection. It put Keiji on edge-- Akemi was one of the most expressive of them all, so for her to speak so flatly was… unsettling.

“Akemi,” he greeted. “What is it?”

“You saw him again, did you not?” 

“It sounds like you already know the answer.” Keiji began to swim around her.

She blocked his way, eyes narrowed. “Keiji-nii, it’s been a while now. Have you not already earned his trust?” Still, her voice was as dull as could be-- as if she couldn't care less--

Keiji raised an eyebrow. “Is it you asking me, Akemi? Or one of the others?” she didn't answer, which was telling enough in itself. He sighed. Why not ask him directly? “To answer you-- or whoever it was that sent you-- I will have the amulet soon enough.”

“You said that two weeks ago, Keiji-nii,” she reminded him, as if he didn't know. As if he didn't feel the guilt weigh heavier on his shoulders with each day that passed-- though whether that guilt was mostly towards his siblings, for selfishly taking what time he could with this man he loved, or mostly towards Bokuto for what he would do to him, come the opportunity, Keiji didn't know.

“Soon,” he repeated, going around her again. This time she let him. “It takes time to earn trust, Akemi. Far more time than it takes to break it. Remember that, should you ever find yourself in a situation like this.”

Akemi snorted, finally sounding like herself. “I'm not nearly so stupid as to do that, Keiji-nii. I have no need of your advice.”

She flounced off, likely to report to whichever brother or sister had tasked her with interrogating Keiji. 

Keiji sighed. She was right though. They all were-- he had let this draw out for far too long. 

Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would take the medal, and then he would drown Bokuto Koutarou.

/////

“Bokuto-san, are you a good swimmer?” Keiji asked, the next evening.

Bokuto blinked at the question. Keiji had to admit, it had been a bit out of the blue…

“There is somewhere I want to take you, but only if you can swim and dive; otherwise you won't be able to enjoy it to the fullest, if you can get there at all,” he explained.

“Oh.” Bokuto considered this. “I mean, I can. Swim and dive, that is. Not for too long, but… long enough. Probably. How long would I need to be underwater?”

Keiji thought for a moment. He hadn't actually been to the cove in a while himself, and even when he did, it wasn't like he paid particular attention to the trip. He was a siren, after all-- what did it matter how long it took, when he had gills that could breathe in the water? Besides, his tail was more powerful and better suited to swimming than those puny limbs humans had. “Maybe… five minutes? I’m not entirely sure.”

Bokuto shrugged. “I should be able to handle that. Where is it?”

The siren took his hand and led him to a small cave tucked away at the very edge of the beach. Their feet could still touch the floor here, but the sand sloped lower the deeper in the cave they got. Keiji stopped them when the water was up to their necks. “We dive here. There’s a small tunnel going deeper in, and a cove there that I think you’ll like to see,” he said.

“Akaashi, it looks kind of dark…”

Keiji turned to look at Bokuto. He didn't look afraid, but he did look concerned… “Wait here.” Keiji dove, allowing his legs to melt into a tail once more, which he used to propel himself deeper into the water. Near the tunnel entrance there were a handful of luminescent crystals, each as long as his palm and as thick around as three of his fingers, kept there for the siren’s use. They were rarely ever necessary-- the sirens were in possession of very powerful night vision-- but there were sometimes when a siren would want to see things clearly, or in starker relief. That was where the crystals came in.

Picking up one in each hand, Keiji swam back up to where Bokuto was waiting patiently. He held out one of the crystals. “I will lend this to you for the trip. Be careful with it, and return it when we leave. It isn't only mine, you see.”

With a nod, the blacksmith took the crystal, examining it curiously. “This is so pretty. What do you call it?”

Keiji shrugged. “We don't call it anything. We just use it.”

“Ah.”

Without another word, Keiji dove once more, glancing back to ensure Bokuto had followed. It took a few seconds, as the human took in as much air as he could hold, and then he followed, shooting Keiji a thin-lipped smile. 

Keiji grinned back, and then he shot forward, careful to pace himself fast enough that they would make good time, but not so fast as to leave Bokuto behind. The good news was that the blacksmith’s legs seemed just as powerful as his arms, pushing him forward through the water far faster than Keiji had seen most men manage. It was impressive, if nothing else.

When they emerged into the cove, Keiji swam underneath Bokuto and gave him a helping shove to the surface, where the blacksmith gasped some much needed oxygen. “That was… hard…” he panted, shifting to float on his back. He seemed too tired to tread water.

“You could rest on the sand,” Keiji offered, jerking his head towards the small shore. It was maybe only five feet wide and twice as long, but it was still spacious enough for Bokuto to lay down on, or pace, if he needed it.

Bokuto shook his head, chest still heaving. “No… It’s… I’m all right. Give me a minute to catch my breath, is all.”

Keiji let him have his minute, and another two besides, taking the time to stretch his tail and swim around-- he had missed having it. True, he used it everyday, certainly, before and after seeing Bokuto, but he was used to having it all day, every day. He had never before needed to use his legs so often, and it was taking its toll, leaving him with aches and stiff joints.

“What did you wanna show me, ‘Kaash?”

Keiji swam up to him, took his wrist lightly in one hand. “You’ll need to dive again, Bokuto-san.”

At the blacksmith’s raised eyebrows, he elaborated, “Well, you seem fond of asking me about the aquatic life-- which is still ridiculous, by the way; you don't know everything there is to know about your flora and fauna on land, so why would I know all the details about the marine life?-- anyway, I thought you would like to see some of them close up. If you need to surface to breathe, you only have to squeeze my wrist twice.”

Keiji was prepared to defend himself if Bokuto grew suspicious, but Bokuto (somehow, to both Keiji’s startlement and expectations) merely nodded. “Sure. I can do that.”

“I know, Bokuto-san.” Keiji released his grip on the blacksmith, allowed the man to take him by the wrist instead. “Ready?” 

Bokuto bobbed his head.

Keiji dove, led Bokuto down to the sea floor. The first thing he showed the blacksmith was the skeleton of a sea turtle. It had long since become home to a variety of small fish the size of Keiji’s thumbnail, their scales colored brilliant shades of blue and yellow and green. Keiji used the crystal to illuminate them for Bokuto to see, and his eyes went wide with awe, sparkling in amazement. 

Tentatively, Bokuto reached out with one hand to touch the bones. Keiji nodded encouragingly. The turtle had been dead for decades now, and anyway, Bokuto was capable of gentleness, he knew. It was fine.

Bokuto stroked the shell, feeling the grooves of it. Then he moved on to the skull, startling when the resultant shift of the shell’s position (jostled by the placement and then subsequent removal of Bokuto’s hand) scared the fish out. They darted past Bokuto’s fingers, swam up, up, up and disappeared into a small hole in the cave wall. Keiji laughed, and then laughed again at the wonderstruck expression on Bokuto’s face.

There was more. So much more. Keiji showed Bokuto various underwater plants, showed him fish of all kinds. There was a stingray they pet, careful to avoid the tail; there were a number of urchins that they looked at, marveling at their spines; there were starfish on the cave walls and shells buried in the sand-- Keiji picked up one, a small conch shell-- and gifted it to Bokuto, who grinned and tucked it away (where, Keiji didn't know).

In the end, Keiji pulled him to the surface, and Bokuto sprawled across the sand as Keiji treaded water, tail swaying just enough to keep him afloat. Bokuto watched him for a minute, something sweet and kind in his eyes that Keiji was afraid to name, for fear his already weak conviction be shaken further. 

“You have a really pretty tail, Akaashi,” he said, voice low like he was trying not to be overheard.

Keiji flushed. “I'm glad you think so.”

“I don't know if it's the same for you sirens,” Bokuto went on, “but for us humans, gold and silver are really precious metals. They're really expensive because they don't rust, and they're so delicate that it takes a skilled smith or jeweler to shape them right-- gold in particular.” He paused. “I think it makes sense that your tail is the same color as those then. Because you… you're special. You're a rarer find than any jewel.”

Keiji felt more color flood his face; what was it about Bokuto that made compliments Keiji had heard before like the one about his tail, or comparisons like this that seemed overdone and cliche affect him so greatly? “You have something silver yourself, it seems. A silver tongue to match your hair,” he mumbled, half to himself. “Fitting.”

The blacksmith smiled at him.

“Come here, please, Bokuto-san.”

Already, the guilt was creeping into Keiji’s heart-- you see, Keiji hadn't just brought Bokuto here to delight him, though that was certainly a factor. Keiji had brought him here to kill him; that his last experience could be a joyful one.

Keiji couldn't give Bokuto much. He had no treasures to give him (his sisters kept them, and he had never had any use for human riches), and what Bokuto might ask of him-- his love, his time, a life together-- well. That was impossible. It simply wouldn't work.

But he could give him this. A happy last memory, a final farewell worth remembering.

And, if Keiji were being honest, this was for himself too. So he would have somewhere to call Bokuto’s grave. So there would be one place that would always remind Keiji of Bokuto, when he was gone.

Bokuto lowered himself into the water, and immediately, Keiji caught him in his arms, yanked him forward into a hungry, desperate kiss. 

The blacksmith gasped against Keiji’s lips, but it didn't take him half a second to give as good as he got, licking into Keiji’s mouth like he couldn't get enough even though Keiji was certain he tasted of salt and the sea. Bokuto kissed like he meant to blank out everything but this-- the feel of Bokuto’s warm, almost feverish skin underneath his fingertips, the intricate dance of their lips and tongues and teeth, clashing in something that was both tender and violent, something loving and caring mixed with something primal and ravenous--

He kissed like he meant to erase anything and everything Keiji had and would ever know from his mind, leaving behind only the sensation of Bokuto’s hair threaded just a tad too tight between his fingers, his legs twined with Keiji’s tail so that if they were to cast shadows on the wall, there would be no telling where Keiji’s ended and where Bokuto’s began.

Keiji’s nails scraped lightly down Bokuto’s scalp, drew a moan from him that the siren promptly swallowed up. They came to rest at his neck.

Bokuto pulled Keiji tighter against him, shifted to trail feather-light kisses down Keiji’s jaw and the line of his throat. Keiji’s breath rattled out of him, followed by a barely audible whimper as Bokuto found a particularly sensitive spot and sucked.

If Keiji let him go much farther… he’d get so caught up in it he wouldn't be able to stop.

So Keiji slid his one of his hands lower, lower, until they were just beneath the hollow Bokuto’s throat, hovering beside the amulet. The other hand took Bokuto’s face, brought it up so their mouths could meet once more.

For a second, a minute-- Keiji didn't know-- he lingered there, reveled in the kiss and the connection and intimacy of it; more than anything, he wrapped himself in the unsung  _ I love you, I love you, I love you _ in every movement and touch.

And then he yanked himself away, shifted to nip at Bokuto’s neck, laving at the spots with his tongue to soothe the pain before repeating it with another spot…

And while the blacksmith was distracted, the siren bit at the cord of the amulet, and he snapped it.

The medal slid into Keiji’s waiting palm.

Bokuto didn't notice. He kept kissing and kissing and kissing Keiji--

And Keiji--

Keiji couldn't do it. He couldn't kill this man. Not now. Not ever.

Not anymore.

Because now, Keiji knew what it felt like to actually have Bokuto’s trust-- this irreplaceable, inexplicably priceless thing that Keiji had never had before, even from his own siblings.

“Wait,” Keiji rasped, jerking back.

Bokuto’s eyes were hazy, his lips red and spit-slicked, swollen from all the kissing, his hair was mussed, sticking up in odd places and pressed flat in others, and Keiji took a second to appreciate it, to know that it was his doing. He was especially proud of the small reddish marks littering the skin of Bokuto’s throat-- his claim to the man visible to the world, though no one but he and the blacksmith would know who had made them. “Yes?”

With a weak smile, the siren held out the amulet. “It fell,” he said. Bokuto would, in all likelihood, see through the lie. It wasn't a very good one, all in all.

But Bokuto didn't even doubt him. Might not have even thought to.

Of course.

“Ah! Thanks, Akaashi.” He took it, secured the cord again with a complicated knot, and slipped it around his neck once more. “I'll have to replace the thread later,” he said to himself.

“Yes. Maybe you should use a chain, Bokuto-san. So it won't get ripped the next time.”

“Ooh! Good idea.”

They didn't stay long, after that. They made the swim back through the tunnel, and when they surfaced in the cave, Keiji took the crystal from Bokuto and returned both pieces to their rightful place. He walked with Bokuto (having changed his tail into a pair of legs once more) to their usual spot on the shore, listening to Bokuto ramble about how much he’d enjoyed the cove, and could they go back sometime?

“Maybe,” Keiji said. He’d like to, but he wasn't sure if that would be possible. He didn't tell Bokuto that though.

And then it was time for Bokuto to go home.

“Good night, Akaashi.”

The siren hesitated. “Keiji,” he said.

Bokuto stopped where he was, a paltry three steps away from Keiji. “What?”

“My first name. It's Keiji. My name is Akaashi Keiji,” the siren said, all in one breath.

Do you know what power a name holds? A name is, in essence, yourself. It encapsulates who you have been, who you are at any given moment, and who you will be.

A name is more than just a word because unlike mundane words like ‘blue’ or ‘sea’, a name refers to not just a creature, but the soul within it. 

So when Keiji gave Bokuto his name, he was not just giving the blacksmith something to call him by. In effect, he was giving Bokuto himself, his life-- for better or for worse-- instead of taking that of the blacksmith.

Bokuto smiled. “Keiji,” he said, tasting it on his tongue, testing the shape of it in his mouth. He grinned wider. “It’s a lovely name. It suits you.”

“Will you call me by it, from now on?”

“Certainly,” Bokuto murmured, eyes softening. “But only if you will return the favor.”

Keiji sucked in a breath, and then let it go in a whisper. “Koutarou,” he said.

Bokuto’s grin at that was more brilliant, and yet somehow, more delicate than any Keiji had ever seen from him. “Good night, Keiji.”

“Good night, Koutarou.”

/////

Before I continue the story, let me ask you: do you think this is where we get our happy ending? 

I won't deny there is one, because to do so would require lying-- but I will tell you that this is not the place for it. Not yet.

Oh, it must seem like it. Where we left off, Keiji had finally let Bokuto completely into his world by taking him physically into the cove, and then giving him his name besides. Really, in any other story, the only thing left would be the admittance of their feelings. From there, come what may, they would face it as a couple, united and stronger together.

But this is not that sort of story, sadly.

You see, Keiji’s siblings were getting impatient. Suspicious. We saw this when Akemi confronted him, did we not?

Well, when Keiji failed yet again to drown the mortal, they decided they would follow him the next night-- if Keiji’s slow seduction wasn't enough to take the amulet, then they would take it by force. After all, no matter how powerful a mage, no human would be able to fend off a whole clan of sirens on his own.

Keiji tried to dissuade his siblings. This was his target, his kill, he said, though he had no intention of following through.

If he could get them to hold off just one more night, he could catch another human unawares. They would never know the difference. They’d never seen Bokuto.

But all his protests were for naught.

Keiji would have to hope that the amulet’s magic was potent enough to withstand the song of six sirens… and that he was powerful enough on his own to protect Bokuto-- even if only long enough so that the blacksmith could get to safety.

/////

When Keiji showed up to their meeting spot the next evening, his siblings lay in wait a few feet away, hidden under the water by the dark of the night. “Bokuto-san,” he greeted, hoping the blacksmith would guess that something was off from the way he’d not only reverted to using his last name, but that he would hear the brittleness in his voice as well.

Alas, it was not to be. “Keiji? Why are you calling me by my family name again?” He jogged closer, brow pinched in confusion and worry.

_ Stay back _ .

Keiji didn't need to hear or see it to know his siblings were all some variation of outraged. A lowly mortal? Calling a siren by his first name? How did he even get it?

_ Stay back. _

It was only a matter of time before they realized Keiji had offered it of his own accord. There would be no saving Bokuto after that.

_ Stay. Back. _

_ Please. _

“Bokuto-san please--”

Keiji froze. The amulet was nowhere in sight.

The blood drained from Keiji’s face, and he was glad only Bokuto could see the sheer terror writ across it; if his siblings saw it, Keiji would be done for. Keiji’s siblings must have noticed the same instant that he did, because he only managed to get as far as, “Your amulet--” when suddenly, Keiji’s siblings burst from the water, singing with every ounce of magic under their command. Almost instantly, Bokuto’s eyes went foggy, his entire body slowing down, drooping under the weight of the combined power of six full-grown sirens, and--

He kept wading in deeper, deeper, drawn to Keiji’s siblings like a puppet on strings--

Keiji needed to stop this. Now.

“This is my fight!” he yelled, hoping they couldn't hear the panic in his voice. “Mine! You told me you would help only if necessary-- the amulet is gone! Your aid is redundant now!” 

The singing stopped. Keiji glowered at them for a few seconds.

“Your prey is stirring, Keiji-kun,” said one of his older brothers, waving a hand at their quarry-- at Bokuto. The others refrained from adding anything, watching him intently to see how he would respond.

Keiji’s glare only grew more poisonous. “I am aware. I will handle him--  _ on my own _ . Leave.”

For the space of three breaths, neither party seemed willing to back down. And then, one by one, the sirens vanished into the water, until only Keiji and Bokuto were left.

“Wh--” Bokuto shook his head to clear it, and Keiji hurried to his side, taking his elbow to help him balance as he swayed uncertainly. “What happened?”

“My siblings,” Keiji spat. “I tried to stop them, I swear, Koutarou, I wouldn't--”

“What do you mean?  _ What happened _ , Keiji?” Bokuto sounded nothing but confused. Keiji still couldn't look him in the eye.

Why couldn't he? Why did he feel like he’d betrayed Bokuto, even when he knew he hadn't?

“Hey.” Bokuto’s voice went gentle, coaxing. “Keiji, I'm not mad.”

“That’s because you don't know what just happened.”

“Not if you won't tell me.” The blacksmith took Keiji’s chin in his hand, tilted it so Keiji was forced to meet his gaze. There was so much warmth and love there… “Hey! Why-- why are you crying? Keiji?”

“My siblings… they got impatient, Koutarou,” Keiji explained through his tears. “They came today. They would have drowned you. They  _ will  _ drown you, if you come back, and I--” he choked off with another stifled sob. “Why did you leave your medallion today?”

“I didn’t need it anymore.” Bokuto pulled Keiji into his embrace, pressing a kiss to the top his hair. “And that was them, Keiji. Not you. Were you afraid I would think you lied to me? That I could doubt you enough to think you’d betrayed me?”

After a moment, Keiji admitted, “Just a little. I didn't think you would, but I worried… I know what it looked like, Koutarou. I’m a siren-- it wouldn't be unexpected.”

“You can't help what you are born, Keiji. You can help who you are, as a person, and what you do unto others.” Bokuto squeezed him lightly. “And I think you're a pretty great person.”

Keiji scrubbed at his eyes, dashed away the tears that had gathered there. Bokuto deserved better. Bokuto deserved to be safe--

If he chose to be with Keiji-- and he probably would-- Bokuto would not have that. He would be in danger any time he was near the water, as Keiji’s siblings wrongly came seeking revenge on his behalf. 

If Keiji went with Bokuto instead, he would be in pain more often than not, and knowing the blacksmith, he would likely beat himself up about it.

_ Nothing would ever come of a siren and a human.  _ Keiji had known it from the start.

“You think too highly of me,” he sniffed, pulling away. Bokuto, as always, let him go. He never held Keiji anywhere he didn't want to be, never forced him into anything or tried to bully answers out of him.

He never asked for more than Keiji was willing to give.

“I don't. I think just right of you.”

Though Keiji had no issue believing that Bokuto meant that statement wholeheartedly, he couldn't help but smile-- however tremulously-- at the slight petulance that had seeped into his voice.

“You know I love you,” Keiji said quietly. “You must know.” 

Bokuto nodded. “And I, you, Keiji.”

Keiji hesitated. “Koutarou,” he said. “May I sing for you?”

If Bokuto was startled or bothered by the non-sequitur, he didn't show it, instead bobbing his head yet again in agreement.

Keiji took a deep breath, and then he began, in a voice so clear and lovely that had you and I been there, it would have seemed to us that the entire world-- even the ocean itself, where it flowed around them; even the moon in the sky and the stars where they twinkled-- stopped their motion to hear him well.

“ _ Close your eyes and drift away, _ _  
_ _ Only wake to dawn of day-- _ _  
_ _ And if you wake and think of me, _ _  
_ _ Only know me as a dream. _ ”

The melody was high, lilting, sweet as a songbird’s lullaby. The tension leaked from Bokuto’s body little by little, until he looked entirely relaxed. He blinked slow and heavy, like he could fall asleep any second, if Keiji kept singing. He did.   
  
“ _ Close your eyes and rest your head. _ _  
_ _ Let morning find you in your bed. _ _  
_ _ And if you wake and think of me _ _  
_ _ Only know me as a dream _ .”

There was magic thrumming in every syllable, in every breath between the words. Keiji felt his eyes stinging with the urge to cry again, but he forced himself to keep his voice steady lest the spell lose its strength. At the siren’s command, Bokuto began to turn back to land, to the shore.   
  
“ _ Close your eyes and say good night, _ _  
_ _ Don't open them 'til morning light. _ _  
_ _ And if you wake and think of me _ _  
_ _ Only know me as a dream _ .”

He would forget. That was what the song did-- erased the sirens from memory, made them nothing more than a vague recollection. As if they had never been anything but a dream or fantasy.

It hurt Keiji to know that somewhere, Bokuto would be living, working, grinning as he always had, and he would never think of Keiji again-- would never know Keiji as anything but a figment of his imagination, if at all. But at least that way he would be safe.

Safe. He deserved safe.

Bokuto began to walk.   
  
“ _ Close your eyes and say goodbye-- _ _  
_ _ Forevermore we part, tonight. _ _  
_ _ And if one day you wake and find _ _  
_ _ That I have come into your mind _ _  
_ _ Know then that I am nothing more _ _  
_ _ Than a dream born of the shore _ .”

Bokuto kept going until he was out of the water. As if some part of him knew what was happening, he hovered, just past the wet portion of the sand, seemingly unsure of whether to continue.

As if some part of him, even under the cloud of Keiji’s magic, was unwilling to let go.

“Go,” Keiji whispered.

The blacksmith went.

And Keiji… Keiji collapsed like his knees had been swept out from beneath him, and he wept.

/////

Keiji’s siblings, when he returned empty-handed, decided to exile him. They had no use for a has-been no longer capable of such a trifle as drowning a mortal, they said.

They were kind enough to allow him claim to the cove where he’d taken Bokuto, promised that they would stay away from the domain, provided he too steered clear of their home.

He agreed. There had never been anything for him there anyway.

His few possessions-- a handful of intriguing trinkets he’d collected from shipwrecks and nothing more-- did not take long to move, and once he’d settled into the cove--

All he could see there was Bokuto.

Bokuto, diving with him, marveling at these things that Keiji found so mundane, making them seem extraordinary.

Bokuto, laughing, teasing a grin out of Keiji with his stupid eyebrow dance and his too-wide smile.

Bokuto, kissing him like there was nothing else he would rather be doing.

Bokuto. In his entirety.

Almost unconsciously, Keiji began to sing again. 

“ _ You for whom I sing this song _ _  
_ _ May your precious life be long _ _  
_ _ And if my soul, it aches to lose _ _  
_ _ The love I found inside of you-- _ _  
_ _ Well you need never know that part _ _  
_ _ Of my weak and fragile heart _ _  
_ _  
_ _ For if you wake and think of me _ _  
_ _ I'll be nothing but a dream. _ ” __  
  


His voice echoed back to him, odd and almost ethereal in the secluded cove. Before, he would have delighted in the sound, in experimenting with the acoustics of the place.

Now, he only felt hollow.

Lonely.

He split his tail into legs, crawled up onto the sand. He could still discern-- if only faintly-- where Bokuto had lain, when they were here last. He sat there, curled his knees to his chest, and sighed.

He missed Bokuto already.

/////

The sun rose and fell thrice, and Keiji did not move. He finally mustered up the strength to move again as the fourth day drew to a close; he needed to hunt, to eat… Bokuto wouldn't have wanted him to waste away on his behalf.

He needed to let go.

Keiji pushed himself to his feet, head swimming from the sudden movement-- it all  _ hurt. _ So much. His head felt like it was caving in. His stomach was empty, had been for two days now, and it kept trying to digest itself in protest (that’s what it felt like, anyway). His legs burned like hellfire, begging him to revert to his natural form; he could feel every grain of sand against his skin like a blade, and there was an ache settled so deep in his bones and ligaments that it might as well have lived there all his life.

The only reason the song of the sea wasn't roaring in his ears, drowning everything but the pain out, was because when high tide swept in, the water rose up just high enough to graze Keiji’s toes.

He didn't… he didn't want to let go.

But he had to.

Keiji dove into the water, sighing almost instantly as the water curled around him, welcoming him home. And then he screamed as his legs shifted into a tail once more-- because it was  _ excruciating _ . His body was eager to revert to its true form, so there was no time to control the transformation, to stagger the process so it happened in increments. Instead, it happened all at once, bones snapping out of and into place, changing shape; muscles coming apart and together again, wrapping around the bones and the joints; and then scales, sprouting from the skin to cover every inch of the skin of his tail.

He could taste blood on his tongue from where he’d bitten too hard and he could see clouds of red around his tail. Tears stung at his eyes, and Keiji gritted his teeth as he allowed himself to float in place for a while, his tail too tender from the sudden change to use without causing him further pain.

Keiji’s heart, unwilling still to let Bokuto go, wanted to take it as a sign that it wasn't yet time. It wanted to cling, to hang on with both hands to what little of Bokuto he had left.

But ah, I’ve already told you, haven't I? Our Keiji was a rational creature. So it was that he ignored the pleas of his heart and began to swim (slowly, so as not to aggravate his still-sore tail). He would go to their spot, and he would wait there just long enough to prove to himself that it was over. That Bokuto was never coming back.

And then he would say his goodbyes, and he would let the mortal go. Once and for all.

/////

Except the thing is, dear reader-- that didn't quite happen. When Keiji showed up to their meeting place, he realized a few feet away that there was a man, standing there, head tilted back to face the sky and the myriad constellations painted across its canopy.

His movements stuttered to a halt. It couldn't be.

No.

Nonono. Why was he here again? He shouldn't remember. 

What if Keiji’s siblings saw him? They would certainly drown him if they could, see it as a way of gaining an upper hand over Keiji-- they had always eyed him with envy, for being what they considered better than them, he knew, though he had never tried to compete with them.

But of all the things on Keiji’s mind-- how was he supposed to let him go, when he was here for the holding?

He needed to leave.

“You-- You’re real?”

Keiji sucked in a sharp breath. Bokuto came closer.

“I knew it,” the blacksmith murmured. He reached out tentatively. “May I?”

The siren jerked his head in a nod almost on reflex, and Bokuto finished his action, taking Keiji’s hand loosely in his and lifting it up to eye level. He laced their fingers together, staring at them intently. “This looks and feels just as right as it did in my dreams,” he whispered, to himself or to Keiji, Keiji didn't know. 

His gaze shifted to meet Keiji’s once more, and the siren struggled not to resume crying; he hadn't even dared to hope he could see Bokuto again, much less look into his beautiful golden eyes--

It was all too much.

“Have you come every night?” he asked, voice shaking like a leaf in a storm.

Bokuto smiled shyly. “Would it upset you if I said yes?”

_ No. Not at all. _

_ Yes! You shouldn't have come! _

Keiji’s mind and heart warred inside him to answer, and in the end, his silence spurred Bokuto to go on, “I felt like… I had to, you know?” He pulled Keiji closer, took his other hand as well. “None of that… all of those things I think are dreams… they weren't dreams, were they?”

Keiji didn't want to lie to him (ha, how quickly things changed; once, Keiji had done almost nothing but lie to him, all to bring himself closer to his goal-- one he ended up too weak to accomplish). He didn't want to tell the truth either. He said nothing.

Bokuto brought their hands-- the ones at eye level-- down to his mouth, brushed his lips against them in a butterfly kiss Keiji could barely feel across the back if his knuckles. “I love you… don't I? It feels that way.” A beat of silence. “And you love me too.”

This, the siren could not deny. “How… how do you remember this? You were meant to forget,” he said instead. Did that mean his magic really was failing him? Had Keiji let his feelings for Bokuto interfere with the spell after all? What had gone wrong?

Did he have the strength to try again, to make sure this time, Bokuto would truly forget him? (The answer was no-- not after knowing what it was to live without him after having him.)

“I didn't really,” the blacksmith began. “I thought it was a dream-- and it definitely felt like a dream, all… wispy, is that the word?-- but y'know, there was this--” He held out an armlet crafted from silver, engraved with an ornate design depicting what the ocean looked like in a storm; it was all beautiful chaos, waves taller than giants, with strength enough to level citadels in a single sweep.

But even that wasn't what made Keiji’s heart clench in his chest. No. What did that was the way there were stones inlaid in the design like pinpricks of light, where the moon would have struck the wave, were the engraving a real one.

Those stones were a rich blue-- and the same color of Keiji’s eyes, when they were struck just right by the moonlight.

Keiji’s eyes weren't jewel-toned, like most of his siblings’. They were a color harder to find in nature, and the fact that Bokuto had searched for them, had gathered enough of them to make something like this…

“It was on my workbench,” Bokuto told Keiji, voice low and calming, like he was afraid of scaring Keiji off. “I remembered making it for you, and if it had only been a dream… well, it didn't make sense for it to  _ really _ be there, right?”

Keiji pressed the armlet back into Bokuto’s palm. “You should go, Kou-- Bokuto-san.” He fixed his eyes on the water below, refused to look at Bokuto again. “Take this with you. I have no need of it.”

Whether he wanted it was another thing entirely, but Keiji wouldn't be the one to tell Bokuto that. He had indulged himself more than enough tonight. It was time to say goodbye.

Bokuto shook his head, and he let go of the siren’s hands to slide it up Keiji’s arm. “It doesn't matter. It was made for you; no one else.”

Keiji sighed. Bokuto was stubborn… and… a memento would do neither of them harm, would it? “Very well. Go now, mortal. I tire of you already.”

The blacksmith didn't move. “Do you? Truly?”

And Keiji… couldn't lie. Not to Bokuto. Not anymore.

“No, Koutarou,” Keiji admitted, deflating all at once. “I could never tire of you. But  _ you _ will tire of  _ me _ , one day. You will tire of taking me to the ocean. You will tire of seeing me, young and beautiful still when you are old and wrinkled and fading, though I will always see you as you are now-- the one I love. You will tire of hearing me complain, of hearing my groans and the creak of my bones at night, when I’ve held my legs too long.”

He began to back into the surf. If Bokuto would not go, he would. He should.

The blacksmith reached for him, but Keiji drew back, flinched away from his touch for the first time in so long. Bokuto froze.

He dropped his hand back to his side.

“Goodbye… Koutarou.” 

“I think,” Bokuto murmured, in lieu of a reply, “I would tire faster of a life without you. It would be dull. Boring. Dreary. You are every bright thing I've ever known, condensed into one being. You aren't human, I know. But that makes sense.” Bokuto twisted, looked off into the distance to the town he’d grown up in. “Most of the humans I know certainly aren't capable of being as wonderful as you.”

Keiji was crying, he knew. How could Bokuto just…  _ say  _ these things? These things that made Keiji’s heart tremble with so much love, that wrapped around him like a comforting embrace.

“You think too highly of me,” Keiji croaked out, feebly.

“I think just right of you,” retorted the blacksmith, fondly, so reminiscent of the last time he’d said the exact thing. He smiled. “I’ll be back. I'll do whatever it takes to stay by your side, Keiji.”

Something inside Keiji jolted at his name-- he didn't know what it was, nor what it meant, but Keiji couldn't help but think that maybe… just maybe… things could work out. As long as Bokuto kept looking at him like that, kept saying his name like it was the most valuable thing he owned (if a name that wasn't your own could be owned, that is).

“Would you really? Through hardship, through pain, through every up and down… you would want me even then?”

If Bokuto said no, if he so much as hesitated… they were both better off alone. Or with someone else-- someone of their own kind.

But before the question was even completely out of Keiji’s mouth, the blacksmith was already nodding, saying, “Yes. A thousand times, a million times over.”

Keiji strode forward and took Bokuto’s face in his hands, and kissed him, hard and long and deep.

Bokuto kissed him back.

/////

I cannot tell you what happened to them, after. All I have ever been told is that they were happy together. Bokuto never did grow sick of Keiji, and though the ocean called Keiji day by day, Keiji always came home to Bokuto-- to his heart and his love.

And they say that, to this day, Keiji keeps that armlet. When asked about it, he only says, ‘It was from someone I loved,’ and gets a soft, sweet look in his eyes… as if he were far away, in another time and place.

**Author's Note:**

> There's a recording of the lullaby here!
> 
> To the user who requested this, thank you so much for loving the story and wanting to see more! Sorry it took so long, but I've been very busy lately. I have a part time job, my college classes just started for spring, and I have a few other independent projects that I'm working on. Not to mention my social life. It's not easy for me to read and respond to every comment anymore, so if I miss one, i'm not ignoring anybody!
> 
> To everyone else, please know this isn't a call out at all, just a gentle reminder that us author's have plenty of obligations, and it's easy for notifications to slip through the cracks. So just because we respond to someone who commented later than you, and not you, don't take it personally. Please don't hijack other people's comment threads for a response! They might be getting notifs they don't want. That's all! Just be considerate of everybody please.
> 
> https://drive.google.com/file/d/1PVKm2W4DXdjixXXpUjhtysHcKkiRow1Q/view?usp=drivesdk


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